Dare to Compose

*Spelunking into the mind for those gems of thought*

I'm an aspiring writer finding himself dazed and confused amongst this horrifying "real world" and barely scraping by in the attempt to keep writing. I'm scatterbrained with a consistent amount of dream dust in my eyes, so it may take a while before I say anything that makes sense.

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I don’t really remember much of that one moment, but I still feel the chills today, the thrashing of caged beasts electrifying my very nerves. The moment is fragmented, muddled by the passage of time that insists that one phase in time has ended and another has begun. That is a lie: time is never fragmented. Childhood never ends, adulthood never begins because the touch of all times—past, present, future—are constantly being lived through the ends of your skin. 

I remember wanting to run away. They were coming after me. The sounds of feet stampeding, hands thrusting to grab me. These hands wanted to punish me for a crime I did not know I had committed. I fled. No, I’m a good boy, I really am, I’ll never do it again, I promise. They did not believe me. The only thing I could here was the shrieking that demanded I yield to their justice. But I continued to resist.

No, I will not be held down! You can’t be doing this! This was completely unfair. No, I’m a good boy, don’t tell me I’m bad. I don’t kill people, I don’t hurt anyone. Don’t listen to my teachers or the doctors, I don’t need whatever you’re trying to give me! NO! Sure, I have my accidents and I mess up, but doesn’t every kid do that? Why are you picking on me? NO! NO! Get that needle away from me! I don’t have any problems! LET GO!

I couldn’t use my hands or my feet. No, this can’t be happening, this isn’t what you do to people. In my mind, I was no longer human. I imagined myself as some kind of wolf and I roared and fought as hard as I could. My hands became claws and I tried to scratch, my teeth became fangs and I tried to bite. But it was useless. Completely pinned down.

My head hurt when I saw the needle. This was not the doctor’s office. That is not medicine in that needle. NO! I will die if you inject that in me. I don’t believe you! How will this change how I act? If it’s supposed to make me better, why do you have to hold me down like this? NO! GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME! My heart felt like a firing machine gun, my lungs expelling so much air I thought I was being drained of all oxygen. The needle touched my skin. NO! PLEASE! I promise, please… please… please… no…

I don’t remember what happened afterward. I am still alive today, acting as well as “well” can be defined. But who’s to say I did not die then? These memories are still etched on my skin, scratching away.

I’m still in here. Everyone thinks I’m gone, that I’m dead. No, I’m still here. I’ll always be here because I am you, I will always be you. You think you’ve changed? Don’t make me laugh. You will never escape me because I am who you were, who you are, and who you will always be. Forever.

  1. puzzlingcreativity posted this